


To Live With Fear

by lary



Category: House M.D.
Genre: First Time, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-30
Updated: 2013-06-30
Packaged: 2017-12-16 17:19:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/864605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lary/pseuds/lary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>House deals with Wilson's cancer diagnosis. Season 8.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Live With Fear

**Author's Note:**

> Do not own them.

 

 

They had sat in silence for nearly forty minutes.

Nolan had no way of knowing that this wasn't just another case of House being a stubborn jerk. Apparently the therapist could see something was wrong, though, because he wasn't pushing it. He just looked at House, who was staring at the carpet like it was his latest puzzle.

 _Fuck._ House was angry, but he could barely hold onto the emotion. Nolan would throw some psychocrap at him, about how anger was just the surface emotion.

 _Well, fuck him_.

But the rage was evasive, simmering and swirling out of his reach, leaving just the fear. House took a deep breath, and stopped his hands from trembling. He felt his eyes stinging.

House had always been bad with losing people, he didn't handle it well. When Stacy had left him, he'd been devastated, and then taken his revenge when she had come back to the hospital with her husband. Cuddy was the last person he'd let too close, and that had led House to make the worst mistakes of his life. He couldn't lose anybody, anymore.

He couldn't lose Wilson.

 _Fuck._ House wouldn't cry. He didn't cry.

But this was different. _What the fuck does it matter anyway._ He finally looked at Nolan, and the man took it as a cue to utter the world's stupidest words.

“You need to just say it, whatever it is.”

House's eyes found the same spot of the carpet. He couldn't say it, that would make it real. The anger was fading, and cold claws clutched House's heart, stopping his breath, forcing tears from his eyes.

“Fuck!” House exclaimed, like expressing it would help him hold onto the anger. Nolan didn't flinch. House stopped his hands from trembling again by grabbing his cane harder. He tried to breath, and then tried to stop the trembling again only to realise that it wasn't just his hands shaking this time, but his whole body.

He forced the words from his mouth, his voice too dry, too emotionless. “Wilson's got cancer.” He felt the strength leak out of his muscles with them and he sank into the chair.

“I'm sorry.” Nolan's level voice didn't quite hide his distress at his client's unusual emotional state. House stared at the carpet.

“How do you feel?” the therapist asked after what could've been a minute or ten. _Again with the stupid questions_.

“How the fuck do you think I feel?” House growled, but without his usual menace. He gritted his teeth and then looked up at the other man. “Afraid,” he muttered. There was no explaining it. It was just an overwhelming fear.

The silence spread between them again.

House was familiar with pain. An old acquaintance. Fear, they had had encounters before, but only now were they becoming truly intimate.

In a way, it seemed that pain and fear were similar. With pain, there was a gateway mechanism most severe hurt swiped away all the others, overwhelming them until it was the sole focus. So it seemed to be with fear, too. His fear of losing Wilson wiped away all others. The things that he used to consider frightening just fell away, they simply didn't matter.

That is why it was surprisingly easy for House to make the next admission. Still, it came out quietly. “I think I love him.”

They sat in silence, until the time was almost up.

“What now?” Nolan asked.

“What is there?” House asked in turn.

 

**

 

It was a lot to hide, but House was used to hiding things from Wilson. He was sure he appeared shaken to the other doctor, but that wasn't a problem. House just didn't want him to see the enormity of his fear, he didn't want Wilson worrying about him as always.

There was a weird normalcy in it all, at first, them being at House's apartment. Talking, being together. Only it didn't take long for the medicine to start working, and then the insane side effects of the insane chemo were hitting Wilson like a brick wall.

It was painful for both of them. Wilson was in agony and House could do nothing to help, especially after the morphine ran out, followed by the Vicodin. And then Wilson told him that he only brought misery to those around him. That House would deserve cancer.

In the end, it wasn't difficult for him to overlook Wilson's words. Wilson hurting him meant that House was there for him to hurt. Just like Wilson had always been there for him.

When the treatment was finished, they fell into their usual banter easily. Wilson looked surprised when there was a knock on the door.

“It's Chinese,” House informed him.

“Food?”

“No, the people. Did chemo destroy your brain, too?”

Wilson rolled his eyes and paid the delivery guy. He was grimacing at the smell. “I don't think I can eat just yet.”

“Who says it's for you?”

Wilson joined him on the couch. The TV was on, and the food was good. It was almost as if there was no cancer, as if the chemo treatment hadn't just taken place on the same couch. If it weren't for the fact that Wilson wasn't eating. If it weren't for the fact that House kept an eye on him even more than usual, and not just out of worry.

“Come on, you gotta eat. The cancer patient look is out, I want your boyish charms back.” House smiled at Wilson, batting his eyelashes. Wilson rolled his eyes and took a reluctant bite out of an eggroll.

Things were almost back to normal.

 

**

 

House had made a half-hearted show about refusing to go on the road trip, but here he was in a Corvette with Wilson. Or, Kyle Calloway, the new, hedonistic alter ego the oncologist had assumed. Wilson had claimed that he'd no longer be the caring person he'd been all his life, but rather would do things selfishly at a whim, regardless of their rationality. The first proof was the stupidly expensive and impractical car.

Teasing Wilson about his driving was always fun, and it almost felt normal. Of course, nothing was normal, least of all Wilson's insistence that he didn't want to talk about the cancer. That part was uncharacteristic.

At first, Wilson worried him, but House didn't meddle. He knew Kyle wouldn't last anyway. Wilson had always been too caring for his own good.

To House's surprise, he was enjoying himself despite the fact that the fear was a constant companion now. Actually, he was enjoying himself a lot. House glanced at the man sitting next to him, and an involuntary smile rose on his face. Somehow Wilson managed to look good, despite having recently emptied his stomach of the enormous steak and then of the dessert that had followed it.

The oncologist grinned like a maniac and the Corvette sped up. House popped a Vicodin and relished the wind on his face, taking in the effortless pleasure of Wilson's company.

Maybe he would be able to live with the fear, just like he lived with the pain.

 

**

 

 _Idiot_ , House berated himself, as he shifted in the carseat, uselessly trying to get comfortable in the cramped space.

Wilson would've been happy for House to join the group to make it a foursome. Sitting in the car, outside Wilson's hotel room, he was having genuine difficulties with resisting the temptation.

House didn't have to work hard to picture Wilson in behind that wall, aroused, naked, hot. God, he wanted that. And he had an explicit invitation. _Fucking moron._

But there was, at the back of his mind, the feeling that he didn't want it like that. It wasn't about who Wilson was fucking, House wasn't bothered. He took self-satisfied pleasure in having arranged the threesome for Wilson tonight – what the fuck else were best friends for? – but if he and Wilson were to cross that line, House wanted something different. He wanted to be Wilson's sole focus.

He took another Vicodin and dragged the jacket over himself, finally falling into a restless slumber.

In the morning House felt like death had warmed over.

Wilson rubbed it in by pointing out that he could've joined in. House simply shrugged. “Four is a crowd.”

He insisted they drive to a coffee shop, despite the money problem that ensued from Wilson letting the hooker take off with his wallet. The oncologist tried to argue against breakfast, but he drove obediently, parking in front of a cafeteria.

House turned on the charm, managing to get them free cups.

“How did you do that?” Wilson asked him with a stunned look, when the brunette waitress left them with a coy smile. “I've never seen you flirt so effectively.”

“Oh, don't be jealous, darling.”

Wilson looked away a little too fast. “We should drink our coffees quickly and continue if we want to make it.”

“Hey, I can't hurry. Cripple here, remember?”

“Yes, that must really slow down the drinking,” Wilson remarked.

“Well, I wouldn't need the caffeine if it weren't for the night in the car...” That earned House a look that was half-apologetic. Yes, Wilson's Kyle façade was working as well as was expected, and the guilt was creeping in. _Too soon for that_ , House decided. “Speaking of which, how did little Jimmy like his very first threesome?” House asked him, not bothering to lower his voice. The waitress blushed and shot them an ugly look from behind the counter.

“House!” Wilson's sputter was most entertaining. He tried to win back their waitress's heart with one of his patented Boy Wonder smiles, but her glare was cold enough to send them towards the door before she decided she would charge for the coffee after all.

“Seriously, how was it? As good as I can remember?” House interrogated as he slid uncomfortably into the passenger's seat.

Wilson started the car but stopped to look at House curiously before taking off. “You've had threesomes before? With hookers?”

“I don't think Stacy would've gone for somebody you have to pay for.”

Wilson's look was utter shock. “Wait, you had threesomes with Stacy? And she agreed?”

“Only like four times,” House smirked. “And sure, she was fine as long as it wasn't another woman in bed with us.”

“You, um--” Wilson looked slightly flustered. “--two guys?” It was taking him even longer than normal to find the right gear.

“You need help with the stick?” House leered. He waved at the coffee shop waitress with a wolfish grin when they finally took off.

 

**

 

Both of them were dead tired when they finally made it home. Wilson had crashed his ridiculously expensive car, and the bus ride had taken forever, especially for House. Wilson had fallen asleep for a few hours, and House had sat on the seats in front of him leaning his head against the cold window, watching the rise of his chest.

House shrugged off his jacket, and then waited by the bathroom door while Wilson was in there. He felt twitchy, but somehow unable to move away. The oncologist looked startled when he opened the door to get out. House took a hold of his arm, his fingers shaking, clutching too hard.

He couldn't say what he wanted to say. The words wouldn't come out, so he stepped closer, holding onto his cane and Wilson for equal support. He didn't want to see the expression on Wilson's face, so he closed his eyes before their lips met.

The kiss was soft and gentle, Wilson's mouth opening for him slowly but without hesitation. He felt fingers trace his cheek, Wilson's hand behind his neck, warm lips against his, and it wasn't enough, enough didn't exist.

He didn't open his eyes when Wilson pulled away. Wilson's breathing was warm against his skin. “I could fall asleep standing up.” The words were a soft mumble.

His own voice was nearly inaudible, when he found it. “You're not sleeping on the couch tonight.”

“I... alright.”

House let go of him, and waited, standing by the bathroom door with his eyes shut while he listened to the tapping of Wilson's footsteps to his bedroom and the soft sound of clothes hitting the floor and Wilson climbing into his bed. He remained where he was, not daring to move until far after Wilson's breathing had slowed down and his leg started to complain. That's when House followed, carefully not looking at Wilson's sleeping body under the covers, settling himself to the other side of the bed and falling asleep almost immediately.

 

**

 

In the morning it was Wilson who kissed him, and there was nothing soft or gentle about it. It was all heat and claiming and House found himself sinking right into it, all thought escaping undeterred. Wilson's teeth scraped his bottom lip and House felt desire surge in him, making it impossible to do anything but drag the other man on top of him. He explored Wilson's mouth with his tongue and felt the heat of Wilson's body on him. _Hell yeah_.

It was just right, and so fucking good that House found himself not caring that they were rutting against each other like a couple of teenagers, heated erections seeking friction and mouths searching for each other. He wouldn't have even found the motivation to loosen his grip on Wilson's ass in order to remove clothing, but Wilson was fumbling with House's underwear, trying to catch his breath and seeking words less-than-coherently.

“I want-- I need-- House--”

House grunted and nudged Wilson enough to take off his own shirt and boxers, and he watched with satisfaction as the other man took the hint and got naked with impressive efficiency.

House felt an answering throb in his cock as Wilson crawled back on top of him, contemplating him with bare lust in his eyes and overall looking like a goddamn embodiment of sex, with lips red from kissing and hard cock grazing against House's skin as he moved. The sight was too much, but he couldn't tear his eyes away, and his hands moved on their own accord to pull Wilson closer.

He felt lips and teeth on his neck. The sound escaping his throat was way too close to a whimper, and pressing his teeth together did nothing to stop the moan when Wilson moved his hips and their cocks ground against each other.

Wilson's mouth was on his again, and when the other man groaned, House used the opportunity to get his tongue familiarised with it, plunging in hungrily as he rocked against Wilson. He licked and stroked Wilson's tongue and teeth until he felt fingers wrapping around his dick. House's head hit the pillow under him and he bucked into the grip, and the feel of another cock sliding alongside of his and Wilson's grasp pulling them both towards pleasure was taking him towards the edge.

It was Wilson who broke down first, shuddering and ejaculating with a strangled shout that made House come undone. He jerked into Wilson's slackened grip and the pressure was barely enough to send him flying. He drained himself, spilling on them both, his muscles relaxing, limbs heaping into a blissful tangle with Wilson's.

“Well, that was new,” Wilson remarked after a while.

House gave an incoherent sound in response. His faculties had pretty much deserted him in the post-coital state he was expreriencing.

Wilson's teeth scratched against his bottom lip, and the warmth felt so pleasant that House couldn't find it in himself to complain. Wilson's eyes bored into his, and the glitter in them was stupidly attractive. “That was good.”

“You're stating the obvious,” House smirked. “Sex with me is _always_ good.”

Wilson smiled. “Good to know,” he stated, before kissing House soundly.

House figured that he might get used to the feeling enough to experience it as many times as they had time for.

 

 

END

 


End file.
